


After You Came Back

by Nyxierose



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Parenthood, Past Relationship(s), Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-21 00:09:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3670158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxierose/pseuds/Nyxierose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten years is a long time, but some things don't change.<br/>Or, second chances are beautiful things (and six-year-olds are too smart for their own good).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So You're Back Now?

It’s not that he misses her, because he swears he doesn’t. It’s just that unlike anyone else he’s ever been with, she was fire, and sometimes he misses that. Sometimes he misses the hurricane and the uncertainty and the occasional glimmers of sweetness beneath them. He misses those things; he doesn’t miss her.

At least, that’s what he tells himself. And then suddenly it is irrelevant.

He is standing in the cleaning supplies aisle in a crowded supermarket on a Saturday morning when he swears he sees a ghost. It’s been ten years and he knows she left this dead-end town right after the end of their relationship but he didn’t know she was back. He definitely didn’t know she has a child, a little girl around six from the looks of it, a carbon copy of her mother. He wonders, instinctively, if there might be some partner in the background who wouldn’t take well to meeting one of their predecessors. He decides he doesn’t care enough to let something that tiny stop him.

“Octavia?” he asks, questioning and worried that maybe this woman is someone else entirely.

“Hey,” she says, tilting her head back to get her hair out of her eyes. The last decade has been good to her; she’s 32 now, he reminds himself, and still quite beautiful. “God, I forgot this place is a fishbowl. Definitely didn’t miss it.”

“Then what are you doing back?”

“Two reasons. One, divorce papers finally went through and there wasn’t anything for me there once I got rid of the dead weight. Which leads to reason two - my dingbat brother is finally settling down and I’ve gotten dragged into wedding hell. I’m not sure if I hate him or his fiancé more right now, honestly…”

She’s so casual, Lincoln thinks, so oblivious to the fact that it’s been ten years and he spent a good part of those years recovering from her. And truth be told, he’s still pretty much in love with her, which isn’t exactly helping right now. “That’s…”

“I know, information I probably shouldn’t be flinging at someone I haven’t seen in forever, but… you know me. I haven’t changed a bit.”

Thee’s a certain sadness in her voice and, awkwardness be damned, he decides to hug her. He’s never been the best with words, but body heat is pretty amazing and she still fits so well against him and for a few moments he almost believes that this might be their second chance.

“Mom? Who’s this?”

Aaaand cue the six-year-old.

Octavia pushes away, a more peaceful look on her face as she turns toward her child. “This is Lincoln. He’s an old friend. One of the best people I’ve ever known, and… one of the reasons we came back here.”

So maybe not a restart, but there’s hope. Still more than he ever dreamed of. Still so much more.


	2. Slow Dance, Breathe Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weddings bring out an interesting side of... well, everyone.

It’s been a month since she came back. A month, because it’s  _her_  and she’s the most determined person he’s ever known and every other important person in her life has been a little too busy for anything, of finding space for her again. He’s still not totally over what happened last time, but it’s been long enough and it’s not that he’s worried so much as he just doesn’t  _know_. They’re friends now, apparently. He can do that. Doesn’t stop the thousand thoughts in his head that this is a fantastically terrible idea, but what Octavia wants, Octavia gets. He of all people is well aware of this particular law of the universe.

Somehow this friendship leads to him getting invited to her brother’s wedding, an event he would’ve avoided on principle except that again,  _her_. She needs moral support, apparently - it’s the first major event since she came back, and people are definitely talking about the circumstances of that return. Lincoln isn’t exactly sure how him hanging around like a lost puppy actually  _helps_  the situation, but if nothing else, someone needs to keep an eye on the kid.

Kaylee - her name is Kaylee, and she is six and a half and absolutely adores him and small children are kinda confusing but he can deal with this one. Or at least he’d be able to if she wasn’t her mother in tiny-human form and absolutely hellbent on what would be described as matchmaking except that she’s  _six_  and probably doesn’t even know that word. She’d better not. This is getting ridiculous.

The little angel is dragging him by the hand right now - she has a lot of pull for being in the vicinity of fifty pounds, it’s almost terrifying - and he’s pretty sure he knows where this is going. Despite the somewhat interesting circumstances, he hasn’t really spoken to Octavia tonight. Stared at her plenty, pretended otherwise but good  _lord_  he slips into that mode so easily when she’s around, but hasn’t tried to do anything. It’s too intense an occasion somehow, not the right time, a disaster waiting to happen and-

“You should dance.”

Six year olds. Least subtle species on the planet, as far as Lincoln’s concerned. He looks from the kid up to her mother, who at least does not look outright opposed to the idea, and figures it’s worth a shot. (Famous last words, but also the most common thought in his mind over the last few weeks.) “Might as well?” he shrugs, offering his hand.

The next song is some painful slow love song - of course it is, the universe is apparently determined to screw him over as much as possible over the course of four hours. This latest mess, having an excuse to hold the woman he still loves so much despite everything, is going to end badly. He’s not sure  _how_  yet, but it will. She’ll say something or do something - it’s always her, that’s why he fell for her in the first place but his life was definitely  _quieter_  when she wasn’t in it - and everything will go to hell. He’s so sure of it. And then he’s wrong.

Ten years and they slip into the old patterns so easily, his hands just so on the small of her back and her head on his shoulder. To the untrained observer - aka just about anyone who might be watching them, he’s pretty sure - they look like a couple that’s been together for years. Nothing could be further from reality, but for a few minutes, he lets himself forget. For a few minutes, there is nothing in the world but Octavia and everything is just fine.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks. The first song has ended but the one on now is in the same vein and it doesn’t make sense to break apart just yet.

“Things that could’ve happened.”

“We’re not dead yet,” she laughs, tilting her head up to lock eyes with him. “And obviously we don’t hate each other yet, which is… a start, somehow…”

“It is.”

“Y’know, I never got over you. Maybe I’m just saying this because I’m overwhelmed and weddings bring out the worst in me, but… I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you. I left because I wanted to  _be_  something and long-distance relationships scare me and I probably should’ve  _told_  you that but… you know me. Too open about everything except the things that matter.”

“Better now than never?”

“God, you’re making me want you. I thought, coming back… I hoped you would’ve changed, become someone I don’t like, but… no such luck. You’re the most solid person I’ve ever known and-”

“It’s okay. We don’t need to sort this out  _now_.”

“Screw sorting it out,” she mutters, pulling him down and pressing her lips to his. “We’ve got time. Might as well have fun with it.”


	3. It's Not What It Looks Like (Except That It Is)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Octavia ends up in an awkward situation and has to face the realities of her heart.

Conflicting emotions can go to hell, Octavia decides. A month is not enough time to process all of this. A month of her being clingy, because that’s what she  _does_  when she’s confused, and generally terrorizing her ex-boyfriend because he’s the only person left who isn’t immune to her antics. She adores him, she really does. She’s not sure in what way yet, not sure where this is going or if it’s going anywhere at all, and it’s driving her up the wall.

A few things, at least, are clear:

1 - In some way, on some subconscious level, part of the reason she came back to this hellhole instead of trying to start over again somewhere else is because she missed him. She missed the stability, the way he tries  _so hard_  to be good, the protectiveness. Things that, she reminds herself, exist perfectly fine regardless of whether they end up romantically involved again.

2 - Her daughter needs a decent male figure in her life, and somehow Lincoln is the best option. It has all the makings of an awkward situation, but Octavia thinks it’s adorable. Kaylee likes people - this will be the problem, Octavia’s already braced for where  _that’s_  going to lead because it’ll be her all over again - but Lincoln takes the kid seriously in all the ways her biological father didn’t (and really, the fact that Octavia wasted seven years on that dingbat is something she’d rather think about) and it  _fits_  somehow.

3 - Even after all this time, he makes her feel safe. Their little convos, the way she’s gotten right back into the routine of calling him at weird hours and he’s completely okay with it, give her hope.

4 - Kissing him at the wedding three days ago was simultaneously the best and worst thing Octavia has ever done. Best because the familiarity is still there, he still feels like home, she still feels the sweetest want for him. Worst because… well, she can’t stop thinking about it.

Needless to say, the last detail is the biggest problem. Especially once Kaylee figures it out.

“You’re in love with him,” she says, completely out of the blue. The fact that the kid inherited every one of her annoying traits from her mother is rarely lost on either of them.

“ _What_?!” Octavia gasps. She gets it, she does. Little kids are hopeless romantics by nature, and she’s not totally sure how much her daughter saw but there was definitely  _something_ , but… there’s a disconnect here.

“You’re in love.”

Octavia rolls her eyes. “What makes you think that, sweetie?”

“You touch him a lot when he comes over. You look at him a lot.”

Time for a little damage control. “Lincoln and I are old friends. It doesn’t mean-”

“He’s in love with you too.”

 _That_ , Octavia doesn’t have a defense for because it’s glaringly obvious. Sure, he hasn’t verbally said as much, but he doesn’t  _need_  to say it. Maybe that’s the problem.

“Kaylee-”

“I know I’m right, mom.”

She is. She definitely is. And that’s the damning point of it all. Because if everyone else is so convinced… maybe it’s worth a proper attempt. Maybe this time they could survive each other. Maybe…


	4. Familiar Tastes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the darlings make up for lost time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Voila!! The rating isn't just precautionary anymore!! Nothing GRAPHIC, but... y'know.

“We need to talk.”

Every time Lincoln has heard those four words has ended in pain. The fact that they have just been said by the probable love of his life, who is currently taking up space in his kitchen for reasons mostly unknown, is anything but reassuring. It’s been over a month since she wandered back, and he’s spent all of said month waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting, though he won’t dare admit it, for her to move on. If this is how that happens, so be it.

“About what?” he asks, trying to remain composed, trying not to worry. Easier said than done considering that his mind is currently on overdrive. This is the bit where she’s going to tell him that she got some amazing job in Nevada or someplace equally far away and she’ll be leaving in a week. Or worse, this is the bit where she’s going to tell him that she met someone else. There are a hundred ways this could play out, and ninety-nine of them do not play in Lincoln’s favor.

“About us. About… whatever the hell is going on with us.”

Even worse, he can’t help thinking as he takes Octavia in for what he fears might be the last real time. She has a magnificent don’t-fuck-with-me expression on her face, which should not be anywhere near as hot as it is, and her hands anchored on her skinny hips. Anyone in their right mind would be downright terrified of her, but he just stands and watches and waits because in the grand scheme of things, that’s all he’s ever really done with her.

“Is this about last weekend?” he asks cautiously. Yeah, he tells himself, it probably is. The wedding, emotions running high and a decent amount of alcohol in his system, the manipulations of a very intelligent child, slow-dancing to some godawful pop song that he wishes had never existed, her pulling him down and kissing him almost like she still  _wanted_  him and he will blame the open bar for all of this. Never mind that they’re both about ten years too old for that excuse to be viable; why else, he asks himself, would she do something like that? Why else, he asks himself, would she shamelessly fling herself at him? Nothing happened beyond that kiss and a shorter sweeter one moments later, but it’s still been enough to keep him up at night and it’s almost frightening.

“Yeah,” she breathes.

“It doesn’t have to-”

“Whatever you’re about to say,  _don’t_.” She’s switched to death glare mode, never a good sign. “Far as I can tell… you didn’t move forward after me. I’d hoped that I’d come back here and find you married to someone wonderful, I hoped you’d have kids the right age for Kaylee to play with, but… I saw you and I _knew_  and it almost broke me. You deserve so much better than this.”

“Tae-”

“Kaylee thinks I’m still in love with you. I didn’t exactly tell her this, because seriously the last thing she needs is a superiority complex, she’s already around my brother enough of the time for that to rub off, but… she’s right. I am. Maybe I always have been.”

For a moment, Lincoln wonders what the inevitable catch is, but he blinks and suddenly she is so much more open and he knows better. She’s still in love with him. The words echo in his brain, back and forth for minutes because he can’t quite believe this is even  _happening_. Countless nights he dreamed of something like this, but the reality is more confusing than he has words for.

“Is this the part where you’re going to give some bullshit excuse for why we can’t be a thing? Because I get it, I kinda figured you’d gone all brooding and reclusive but you’ve let me back in again and-”

He takes three steps forward and kisses her. It’s like a weight is lifted, the collision of her sharp sweetness and his worries and reckless hope and he wants to pause this moment and stay in it forever because nothing will ever be so good again. There is nothing in the world but the woman in his arms, and the fact that his neck will be sore because of how damned tiny she is doesn’t matter at all. He would die for her, it’s been an active thought in his brain for thirteen years, and nothing at all has changed.

“I missed kissing you,” she murmurs against his skin. “I missed everything. God, I used to think of you when I was alone. Helped me sleep, remembering the things you used to do to me…”

“Was I really that bad?” he counters, only half messing with her.

“Not even close. You were  _amazing._  Sometimes I’m pretty sure that you being my first is what ruined me for everyone else I ever fucked. None of them kissed as well as you do. None of them felt right. Not like you did.”

From there, words aren’t important. Not as they kiss again and again to make up for the lost decade, not as they move to his bedroom, not as clothing is shed and new scars are traced. Someday soon, she will tell him of her daughter’s birth and of the evening she burned her ear with a hair straightener; someday a little _less_  soon, he will speak of the car accident and several other nights he wishes he could forget. But none of that matters for the moment. Now is not the time for anything but collisions.

He lays her down on the pile of blankets and overs over her, kissing her long and sweet until her back arches and her legs wrap around his hips. “You  _really_  haven’t changed,” she laughs, digging her fingernails into his back. “Which should mean you still know what I like?”

He does. He definitely does, and he will never forget the breathy whimpering sounds she makes in her ecstasy or the way she clenches at the same time he finds his own ending.

“So what now?” she asks what feels like hours later. They’re still on the bed, her mostly on top of him. “Are we a thing again, or…?”

“I want to be. But it’s your decision, Tae. I’ll follow your lead.”

“C’mon, what you feel is just as important,” she reminds him, kissing the tip of his nose. “But I was going to say the same thing, so… we’re a thing now. Awesome. I’m not sure what that means, but…”

“We’ll figure it out. We’ve got time.”

“We’ve got time,” she repeats, closing her eyes. “We’ve got time.”


End file.
